Things Can Only Get Better
by empty gun
Summary: Things will be better when Ichigo returns. Written for Bleach Flashfic.


It was starting to rain as they pushed their bikes along the road. It had rained earlier that day when they'd set out for a ride and after seeking shelter in an old building somewhere along the deserted road, they ventured out again. The dirt streets were muddy slush now, splashing at ends of jeans and splattered from the bike tires.

And now, only minutes after the rain had eased up, dark clouds were billowing in the distance, the sky fading from temporary bright blue to a deeper shade that spelled rain. If they hurried they could make it home before the cloud burst. They weren't that far out and truth be told, they could've probably turned around by the time the _first_ drops started, but they ducked into an old shack as the light drizzle's drops grew larger and harder.

A pound of lighting later, they both stood shivering slightly under a barely covered roof watching the storm clouds roll over the countryside.

After a moment, Mizuiro turned and rolled his bike inside the shack. The shack was old, and rotting, made of wood that gave off a scent that wasn't unpleasant at all, oddly.

"What are we doing?" said Keigo loudly, over the rain, as he followed Mizuiro inside. He took a deep breath and inhaled the scent of the wood. It felt old and weird in here, and here they might be for a while, so he went back and took his bike inside as well.

"I don't know," said Mizuiro, as he sat down on an overturned crate in the straw-strewn floor. It might've been a barn once.

"It's gross in here."

"But would you rather get wet?"

Leaning his bike against the wall, Keigo sat next to Mizuiro on the crate, their shoulders brushing lightly as they situated themselves to make room. It was the only thing in here to sit on.

They were quiet for a moment, listening to the rain, which was incredibly unusual. Keigo noticed this right away, the moment he and Mizuiro were together, things got quiet. He hadn't felt the same inside anyway. It felt like something had been taken out of his stomach, somehow. That was the only way he could describe it. Whenever he thought about things too much, the usual way he could swallow things like casual fear or doubt slipped through and made him sick.

They both felt the same way whenever they were in the same room with Tatsuki. Rarely were the three of them together, but in proximity their voices died down and they exchanged looks, and all seemed to say, are we ever going to talk about this?

He and Mizuiro didn't really do a whole lot of serious talking. They just didn't. That wasn't what guys did really, or Keigo felt guys like them really should do. Keigo felt better then he was making jokes or they were laughing and it wasn't like it was covering anything up.

But lately every word, every laugh, everything that seemed normal and in place didn't. It seemed kinda sick and weird, like they were all pretending things hadn't happened when they really had.

Weren't pretending that they hadn't seen what they did or knew what they did. That Ichigo was gone. And that was all they knew. That Inoue was gone before him. And that was all they knew.

At times Keigo felt like Ichigo was the one who held their group together and he knew Mizuiro felt the same, in a way. Things changed when they met Ichigo. The idea that was he was on a vacation or something was so stupid. But that was what they were doing. They didn't even say his name.

And that guy who had let them see, and explained later almost absolutely nothing in his roundabout way of speaking ... things changed when they met Ichigo, but definitely for the better. They both knew that.

Keigo felt like if this were as movie, this would be the time he'd turn to Mizuiro and ask, "Do you miss him?" or "Where do you think they are?" Or ask what happened, or something.

But they sat there, the rain coming down, dripping through the roof onto the old floor, and Keigo felt that weird feeling again, when it came down again, the swooping sensation, the reality that things were weird and bad things had happened and this wasn't a movie. And you couldn't pretend.

You couldn't even laugh about it or cover it up. You just kept quiet.

Which is what they were doing, mainly from an absence of not knowing what to do.

As soon as it had come, almost, the dripping let off and the rain stopped.

At least outside it had. Keigo could still feel the dripping in his stomach, almost as though hope was raining through that hole and nothing could patch it up. Forgetting about it just made it bigger and the realization just made it bigger.

Sometimes he would think back to the first day they met Ichigo and how scared of him and Chad he had been. And how Mizuiro had calmly walked up, his friendly self and Keigo felt his world shatter, knowing Mizuiro being a nice, brave guy had ruined everything. They were going to get killed and expelled and it would be all Mizuiro and Ichigo and Chad's faults.

But yet things like that hadn't happened. Keigo had gotten himself into trouble, as usual, and Ichigo bailed him out. That was the kind of guy Ichigo was, just a really good guy. Keigo admired him for a lot of things and at times it felt like he was a little bit obsessed. But Ichigo put up with him, and that showed what a good guy he was. Really. Sometimes against his better judgment Keigo would sometimes wonder why.

But the rain had stopped now and they'd gotten quiet again as usual, as they made their way through the wet grass.

Through all of it, this bad feeling, he couldn't blame Ichigo because everything, oddly, even this bad feeling, somehow was for the better. He knew it when he met Ichigo, and he knew things would get better when Ichigo was back.

They wouldn't have to pretend anymore.


End file.
